31 Thursday May 2018
Posted in Prose, Real Life Report
I’ve been doing a lot of night hammocking lately. There are assumptions made of a man swaying in a hammock past midnight. It’s arbitrary, but I get it. I once saw a lady hang a row of wet doll clothes on a line at 10pm and I almost called the cops. Where are those dolls going that it can’t wait until morning?
23 Friday May 2014
Posted in Prose
When I was very young there was me and not much else. I was aware of the noisy mystery of other children, but at a distance. Adults were further still, these abstract forces that limited my world but could not perceive or interact. I was happy and cared for, but existed so deeply within my imagination that it was more a fugue state than a developmental stage. I was ten before I saw other humans as real things worth investing in, and while I adapted quickly, the narcissism of a singular being never quite left me.
As an adolescent I began to understand that the ease and freedom that I possesed was the product of the work, worry, and obligation of the adults who cared for me. I loved them for the sacrifice, but I still couldn’t imagine who they were apart from that. The weight seemed to be the whole of them. I assumed the parts I couldn’t see had been amputated by circumstance. I mourned the life I would have lived in their stead, and it never occurred to ask if they were happy. This feeling stayed with me. Continue reading
06 Wednesday Nov 2013
Posted in Prose
I do not have a cell phone. I used to have a burner but they took away my number because I left it in a drawer and then forgot. While I didn’t miss the phone I liked that number, and the idea that I couldn’t meet a standard of care drug dealers, dead beat dads, and escapes cons manage was troubling. I called Telus from a land line and asked if I could trade in my phone for just the number. I’d rather a soul than a corpse. They tried to sell me an I-Phone with a three year plan. I told them I couldn’t own something more ambitious than me and besides I did have a credit card. They said I lacked essential numbers and suggested I get my life in order. Continue reading
24 Thursday Oct 2013
Posted in Prose
I do not remember how I learned about slavery. I heard the word quite early, in the bible and in Greek mythology, but figured it for one of those terrible ancient things like dinosaurs or crucifixion. My awareness of modern slavery came later. No one explained it. It was one of those distasteful/irrelevant/not fit for children things that adults refused to engage me on. Still I was curious so I manage to piece together a rough awareness from circumspect mentions in the books about war and history and moral quandary that were available to a sub-ten year old. At the time I conceptualized it as having very bad parents who never let you grow up and could give you away if you displeased them.
08 Thursday Nov 2012
When I was ten no one could prove anything. We knew things, but there was rarely a means of verification. The library nearest to my house was a two hour walk and our encyclopedias were decades out of date and missing several volumes of alphabetic importance. I knew there had been a Civil war, but the finer details of SLavery and SMallpox remained maddeningly out of reach.
Flawed But Fixable 